Vacancy
by SammyWinchester
Summary: Sam and Dean deal with an angry spirit in a motel in Arkansas.
1. Chapter 1

Vacancy - Ch1

A neon sign blinks irregularly in the gathering dusk. There are several reasons the Sherelyn Motel is practically empty; for starters, the neon sign announcing the name of the dilapidated building reads only "Sh tel," and in the darkness it's difficult to make out the remaining, unlit letters. The building itself seems like it hasn't been painted or cleaned in years, and the parking lot is full of cigarette butts, beer cans, and used condoms. There are only three cars in the entire parking lot, including the owner's pickup truck.

It is this scene that greeted the eyes of Dean and Sam Winchester as they pulled into the motel in their trusty '67 Impala. Dean had been singing along with the radio, but he fell silent when he caught sight of the rundown motel.

Sam turned to his brother and opened his mouth, about to say something, but he just shook his head instead.

"This place looks cozy," quipped Dean.

"You know we have to be here," Sam returned. "These sightings of this axe-weilding spirit could turn out to be something important."

"I know," said Dean. "Still... look at this place." He pulled the Impala smoothly into a parking spot near the office. "Whoever owns this... no, I can't even call it a motel. Whoever runs this building should be ashamed."

He turned off the car and the two brothers got out. Dean kicked a beer can away from the tire of his beloved car and shook his head. He put his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and walked up to the door, followed closely by his brother.

"Do we have to stay here?" he tried one final time before pulling on the handle.

"Dean-" Sam warned.

"Sorry," Dean groaned. He tugged open the squeaky door and walked into the office of the motel. A dying cactus sat on an endtable beside a couch with a rusted spring poking through the seat. Dean flicked the spring as he walked past, and it broke in half. Without missing a beat, he tucked it into his jacket pocket and kept walking.

They reached the desk at the same time. An old man wearing a trucker's cap sat behind a cash register, smoking a cigar. The smoke curled around his head and Sam coughed.

"Help you?" the man grunted.

"Uh, yeah, we'd like a room," Sam said, trying not to breathe in the bluish cigar smoke. The man's eyes opened wide.

"Ooooookaay," he said.

"Brothers," Dean snapped, rolling his eyes.

"Whatever," the man said, taking a key off of a hook on the wall next to him. "That's none of my business."

Sam and Dean shared a look before Sam took the key from the man. It had a large plastic card that hung from the key ring, announcing their room was number 7. "Just for the night?" the man behind the counter asked.

Sam nodded, but Dean said, "Better make it three nights. Just in case."

"In case what?" Sam asked.

"In case we like it here so much we just have to stay," Dean replied, affecting a lisp.

The trunk of the Impala closed with a loud clang. Dean hoisted a bag full of various hunting weapons onto his shoulder and handed Sam another.

"I can't believe we have to stay here for three nights," Sam complained, settling the strap of the bag on his strong shoulder. He walked toward Room 7, reaching in his pocket for the key.

"You're the one who said we had to STAY here, Sammy," Dean said. "I wanted to stay in the Holiday Inn up the street, but NO..."

"If we're going to catch this thing we have to be here. Otherwise we're going to get arrested for trespassing around the motel for no good reason," Sam replied. He slid the key into the lock and turned it. The door swung open. Sam stepped into the room and backed out again immediately, coughing.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, looking mildly concerned. He strode forward to help his brother.

"Cigarette smoke. Lots of it."

Dean passed Sam and walked into their room. He was gone for a few seconds, and Sam heard a clatter as Dean threw down the bag of weapons. He came back outside, chin tucked into the white shirt he wore under his jacket.

"We need some serious Febreeze."

Sam gave the bed a good long spray with the can of Febreze he'd gotten from the motel owner. The white mist from the spray can hit the sheets and rolled off again, falling to the floor and sliding under the bed.

He turned the can to Dean's bed and did the same, finally dousing the rest of the motel with the air freshener. Soon he was choking on not cigarette smoke but Summer Breeze.

"Geez, Sammy, enough already!" Dean scowled from the doorway. "We can't hunt this spirit if we're high!"

Sam laughed and tossed the can on the counter. "Much better," he said, inhaling loudly.

"About time," Dean said. He came into the room carrying a suitcase full of clothes on his back. He swung it onto his bed with a grunt. "So, what are we going to do to get this bitch?"

Sam lay back on his bed and put his hands behind his head. "The newspaper I read online said this spirit's been appearing to motel guests every other night for the past month. There was no sighting last night."

Dean smiled. "So, we wait." He bent down and began unpacking their clothes, stowing them in the dresser that was missing several drawers. Sam sat up.

"I wonder if this place has room service?" Dean said as he folded a pair of boxers and shoved it into a drawer. Sam looked at the endtable and saw a piece of paper. He picked it up and saw it was a menu for a pizza place just down the road. He showed it to Dean. "Well there you go!"

"Thanks," Sam said, taking the pizza box from the pimpled teenager who came to the door. He handed the delivery boy a ten and closed the door. "Dean! Pizza's here!"

The door to the bathroom opened and Dean came out wearing a pair of flannel pants and a tight, white undershirt. His hair was missing its usual gel and hung flat against his head.

"You can't go to sleep," Sam protested.

"Trust me, I'm not," Dean said. "While we're waiting for this spirit I figured I might as well be comfortable.

Sam brought the box of pizza over to the formica table that stood in a corner. He set it down and opened the top, and the motel room filled with the savory aroma of pepperoni and cheese. Sam took a slice and brought it over to his bed, leaving Dean to get his own.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean said.

"Any time," Sam shot back. As he passed the TV, he picked up a brightly colored card that had been lying on top. It showed a topless woman lying on a bed with the letters "XXX" floating over her head. Below the picture it said "Only $.50 per hour."

"Look at this," Sam said, tossing the card to his brother. Dean caught it with one hand, holding a slice of pizza in the other.

He looked down at the card and then back up at his brother. He took a bite of pizza and spoke around the mouthful of food. "You know, Sammy, I'm not really comfortable watching this with you. You want me to leave, that's one thing, but..."

Sam rolled his eyes. He too took a bite of pizza and chewed before replying. "I don't want to watch it, I thought maybe you-"

A scream shattered the stillness of the air around them. Their eyes opened wide, and without a word they dove for the bag of weapons, pizza forgotten. Dean pulled out a pistol and loaded it with rock salt, and Sam selected a pre-loaded shotgun.

They ran out of their room as another scream came from the direction of the office. A car was parked out front of Room 1, so they sprinted to that door. "What's going on?" Dean shouted as they heard yelling from inside.

Sam banged his fist against the door, holding the gun upwards with his other hand. "Hey! Open up!" Dean lifted his foot and kicked the door, and to their surprise it flew open. The two brothers looked at each other for a split second before leaping into the room.

A handsome teenage boy dressed only in a pair of boxer briefs and a white undershirt sat huddled in corner with his hands covering his eyes. Advancing slowly toward him was a semi-transparent thing dressed in a beige hunting jacket and hiking boots. It carried a huge axe over its shoulder, poised to strike the boy.

A girl lay in the single bed, a sheet clutched around her neck. She was sobbing. When she saw the two men jump into the room, she screamed again, as much embarassed as afraid for her boyfriend's life. A fifty-cent XXX movie played on the televisioin.

The thing with the axe turned to look at the brothers, and they saw with surprise that its face was marred with ugly lacerations. Its eyes flashed red, and it hissed. Without warning it was right in front of Dean, who fell backwards in surprise. The pistol clattered across the motel floor. "Sammy!" Dean managed to choke out as the thing stepped toward his prostrate body.

Sam Winchester leveled his shotgun at the spirit and pulled the trigger. When the rock salt connected with its shoulder, the thing howled but did not vanish. "Son of a bitch," breathed Dean.

Sam was at a loss for words. He didn't know what to do; they'd been convinced the thing was a spirit, but the rock salt should have repelled it. Instead, it was very much still here.

"Oh my God!" shrieked the girl in the bed as her boyfriend joined her. The axe-weilding thing raised its weapon over Dean's head.

"Sammy, do something!" Dean gasped, pleading. He tried to back out of the thing's range but found he couldn't move his arms or legs. The thing had cast some kind of spell over him. Before Sam could move to his brother's aid, the axe came whoosing down at his Dean.

"No!" Sam shouted, leaping forward. He was too late. At the exact instant the axe connected with Dean's chest, both the deadly weapon and the thing holding it disappeared.

Sam sighed with relief and ran to his brother's side. "You ok, Dean?" he asked.

Dean shook his head, and Sam looked down at his brother's chest. To his utter shock, Dean's undershirt was covered in blood.

SUPERNATURAL


	2. Chapter 2

Vacancy - Ch2

"You ok, Dean?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head, and Sam looked down at his brother's chest. To his utter shock, Dean's undershirt was covered in blood.

"What the hell?" Sam gasped. The axe had seemed ethereal. How had it hurt Dean? "Did the axe cut you?" There was no answer. Dean's eyes had closed. Sam pulled off his brother's shirt and saw that Dean's heavily muscled chest was clean. No blood. No wound.

"What the hell?" Sam repeated. "How..."

"Is he dead?" asked the girl from behind Sam.

The younger Winchester leaned down and listened for signs of life from his brother. Mercifully, he heard a small wheezing breath from Dean's lips. "No," Sam said. "He's alive."

"Who are you?" asked the teenage boy. Now that the apparition was gone, he was pretending he hadn't been so scared.

"My name is Sam," Sam said, slapping Dean's cheek. His brother's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment they were unfocused. Then they fixed on Sam's concerned face, and his hand came up and connected with Sam's face.

"Dean!" Sam gasped, holding a hand to his cheek. "What-"

"Idiot," Dean said. "It's cold in here. Why'd you have to go and take off my shirt?"

"I thought the thing got you with its axe," Sam said. "Your shirt was bloody."

Dean rubbed his hands over his chest. "It feels like... I don't know. This emptiness in my chest. Like the axe did hurt me, but someone pulled it out and then took away all the pain. It's... Very unpleasant."

A loud moan came from the television, and the teen flipped it off quickly. His cheeks reddened as the Winchester brothers turned to look.

"What the hell was that thing?" the kid asked.

"I don't know," Sam said. "It wasn't a spirit, that's for sure." Dean stood up and shuddered.

"It sure looked like a ghost to me," the girl said, clutching the sheet around her small frame.

"No, the gun was filled with rock salt," Dean said. "It would have repelled a ghost. That was something else, my friends."

The boy looked at Dean incredulously. "How do you know that? What are you?"

Dean laughed, then clutched his chest. "That hurts," he said. "That's not good. It hurts."

Sam put his arm on Dean's shoulder. "Dean?"

"Sammy, I don't know what happened to me, but it's not good. Why don't you get these kids all situated and I'll go lie down in the room," Dean said. Sam nodded, looking concerned. Dean took the bloody shirt from the ground and walked outside, shivering from the night breeze.

"So," Sam said, looking at the two teenagers. They stared back at him, waiting for him to say something else. "Um, what are your names?"

"Why?" the boy asked suspiciously.

The girl slapped his arm and said, "I'm Kathy, and this is Jason. Uh... thank you."

"Yeah, thanks," Jason said, after the girl gave him a hard look. "If you and your brother didn't show up, I'd be going through what your brother is right now. So... thanks."

"No problem," Sam said. "That's what we do."

"What DO you do?" the girl, Karen, asked. "How do you know that rock salt repels ghosts?"

"Well, we're... hunters," Sam said, unsure of how much he should tell these two. Then he realized, they had experienced something supernatural and had a right to know they weren't crazy.

"Hunters?" Jason said. "Me too. I hunt turkey with my father every year."

"Not that kind of hunter," Sam said, thinking that if Dean had been there he would have found the misunderstanding humorous. "We hunt... things. Things like whatever that was with the axe, or... spirits, or demons, or witches. Those things exist. My brother and me, we take it upon ourselves to kill them whenever we come across them." Sam noticed the boy had a trickle of blood running down his forehead. "Hey, are you OK?"

Jason touched his hand to his forehead and took it away. He looked for a long while at the blood there before his eyes lit up with understanding. "Oh. Yeah. That's nothing. I got up to change the... uh... the channel, and I fell and hit my head. That's when AxeMan showed up."

Sam nodded. "Do you two have somewhere else you can go? You really don't want to be here if that thing shows up again."

Jason and Kathy looked at each other. They seemed to be communicating without speaking, and then Jason said, "Yeah, I guess we can go back to my place. Thanks again, man, you saved my life."

"Yeah," Sam said, stepping forward to shake the boy's hand. Jason took Sam's hand and pumped up and down once. The boy had a strong handshake.

Kathy said, "Can I get dressed?"

Sam's eyes opened wider and he whirled around. "Oh, god, I'm sorry." He walked out of the room and started to close the door behind him, but Jason followed him out. The door swung shut and they could hear Kathy moving around.

"So, are you and your brother going to stay here and try to kill that thing?" Jason asked, his breath rising from his mouth in the cool night air. He stared out at the road, where an eighteen-wheeler roared past.

"Yeah, probably," Sam said, hands in his pockets. He wanted to see how Dean was making out, but the kid obviously wanted to talk.

"Do you want help?"

Sam was taken aback. "I couldn't ask you to-"

"I'd be glad to," Jason said, turning to Sam. "My mother died when I was only six months old, in a fire in my nursery. Dad said she was pinned to the ceiling somehow and that caught on fire. I sort of always figured she was killed by some kind of supernatural thing, so I've always been interested in hunting paranormal stuff."

Sam's eyes opened wide. He inhaled sharply and asked, "Are you serious?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah. Sucks. It really does. I never got to know her real well. Hell, I never got to know her at all."

"Dude, my mom was killed the same way. Dean and I, we've been hunting the demon that did it for a while. Jason, how old are you?"

"Seventeen," the teenager replied, surprised. "You know what killed my mom?"

Sam nodded. "There's this demon that can possess people, among other things. We've faced it a few times, but it keeps getting away. Oh my god, I can't believe it... so far we've only found other kids my age. Twenty three. I thought the demon only killed mothers in 1983."

"I guess you were wrong," Jason said, smiling a thin-lipped grin.

"Do you have any kind of psychic ability?" Sam asked. Jason shook his head, unsure of what Sam meant. "Like, premonitions."

"No," Jason said. "Why?"

"I do... and some of the children like me do."

"Jason!" came a call from inside the room. Jason opened the door immediately, afraid the being with the axe had come back for Kathy. Instead, she stood there with his pants, which he'd forgotten he wasn't wearing. "Can we leave?" she asked.

"I'll be back tomorrow, if that's OK," Jason said. He walked to his girlfriend, kissed her on the cheek, and pulled on his pants. They walked, hand in hand, past Sam to the office to turn in their key. Sam stood in front of their room until they came out of the office and got into their car, and he gave a curt wave to Jason as he pulled out of the parking lot.

Sam opened the door to Room 7 and walked in. It was warmer inside, although not much. The heat in their room wasn't working right.

'Pizza's probably cold,' he thought.

Dean was on the phone. "Just fifty cents an hour?" he said. "That right? Ok, well then, I'll take four hour."

"What?" Sam exclaimed. Dean hung up the phone and grinned at his brother.

"Just kidding man, calm down!" Dean had put on another white shirt, and Sam saw the bloody one in the bathroom sink in the reflection of the large mirror near the bathroom. "I didn't order porn. No need to worry."

"Dean, you're not going to believe this. Jason... the boy... His mother was killed the same way Mom was. And he's only seventeen!" Sam said without taking a breath. "Do you think it's the same demon that killed Mom?"

"Slow down, Sammy," Dean said, all playfulness gone from his voice. "You said this kid's mom died in his nursery, on the ceiling, in a fire?" He rubbed the place where the spectre's axe had wounded him thoughtfully.

"Yeah. He said he wants to help us track down whatever this thing here at the motel is... before I could tell him we didn't want to put him in danger, he left."

Dean was silent for a moment. "Good," he said after a while.

"Good?" Sam said.

"Yeah. With me out of commission, you need someone to help you kill the bastard," Dean said, grimacing.

"Dean, what's wrong with you?" Sam asked. "Do you think that axe actually hurt... you know... your soul? You know, like the Lord of the Rings... where Frodo was hurt by the Nazgul's blade."

"Never saw the movie," Dean said.

"Ever read the book?" Sam asked almost without thinking. Dean gave him a look, and Sam sighed. "Sorry. Never mind. Anyway, let me see Dad's journal."

"Want a piece of cold pizza to go with that?" Dean asked.

"Sure," Sam said, and his brother handed him the book and the food.

"Here we go," Sam said. Ten minutes had passed. They had each eaten two slices of pizza, and Dean had found a wrestling match on TV. "Dean."

His brother held up a hand and kept watching as the large men onscreen kept slamming into each other.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. Dean flicked off the TV with a sigh.

"You wouldn't let me watch women, so I had to watch that. And now I can't even watch wrestling. What is it?" Dean said with a smirk.

"I think I found something. Dad wrote about these beings that are born out of pure rage. They usually stick with a certain building where something bad happened to them, and... get this. They're immune to rock salt," Sam said. He flipped a page in the journal and said, "Says here they can also bring objects with them over into the spirit world, if the object was important enough to them in life."

"Where's Sarah Michelle Gellar when you need her?" Dean grinned.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Nothing," Dean said. "Didn't you see The Grudge?" Sam shook his head, and Dean smiled. "Didja read the book?"

"Dean, can you be serious for a minute? You were hurt by this thing's axe and we need to figure out how to reverse the effects. Where's your laptop?"

"Out in the car," Dean said. "You think this place is a hot spot?" To Sam's quizzical look he replied, "Wireless Internet access. You really think so?"

Sam finished splicing the cord into the phone jack and pressed the laptop's power button. It whirred to life and he clicked on the Internet Explorer logo. He smiled when the Internet opened.

After five minutes of searching on the Internet, he said, "OK, it says on a couple of these websites that burning the bones of the being will release the hold it has on the Earth and set it free. So, we have to find this guy's grave and burn it."

There was a knock on the door. Sam went over and opened it, gasping in surprise at the person he saw there.


	3. Chapter 3

Vacancy - Ch3

"Jo!" Sam said. The blonde pushed her way into the motel room and stared at Dean, who stared right back at her. "What are you doing here?"

"My mom sent me."

"Ellen? How did she know we were here?" Dean asked, sitting up with some difficulty.

"She had Ash put a trace on your computer. He could see what websites you guys have been looking at." Jo looked pointedly at Sam. "He says you two are very naughty boys."

Sam blushed a furious shade of red. He opened his mouth to speak but found no sound would come out.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," Dean said. "What have you been doing on my laptop?"

"Never mind," Jo said. "Mom wants me to help you two."

"No," Dean said. "You can't. Whatever we're up against here is too dangerous. It hurt me with its axe and I can't let you help."

"You have no problem with Jason coming back tomorrow," Sam protested. "Jo can help too. She's much more experienced than Jason is."

"Who's Jason?" Jo asked. "You don't look hurt, Dean," she added after looking him over. He didn't mind at all.

"This thing that's haunting the motel. It's like the movie The Grudge... we think something really, really bad happened to that man, so bad it stayed behind after it died. And it kept its axe. It chopped my chest, and it feels like I have a hole there or something," Dean said. "And Jason is this kid we met. His mother was killed just like ours, only he's not Sammy's age. He's younger."

"That's interesting," Jo said, pulling out a cell phone. She dialed the number for the roadhouse and said, "Hey, Ma, it's Jo. Yeah, I'm with Sam and Dean." She listened for a while, and then said, "Dean was hurt. They think it's a kilajh. It got Dean with its axe..."

Sam mouthed the unfamiliar word to Dean, who shrugged. Jo continued talking. "Ok, mother, I'll put him on." She held the phone out to Dean. "She wants to talk to you."

"Hey, Ellen, what's up?" Dean said, flashing Sam a look. Now it was Sam's turn to shrug. Jo turned around, and Sam smiled at her.

"Hello, Dean. Are you all right?" Ellen asked on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to be ok. It hurts like a mother right now, but Sammy thinks he found out how to kill this thing. What did Jo call it?" Dean said.

"A kilajh. It's the old Indian term for a creature born out of rage. That's what you're dealing with?" Ellen replied, washing the counter of the roadhouse with a washcloth. She shifted the phone to her other ear to continue rubbing down the bar.

"We think so," Dean said. "Its face looked like it had been murdered, maybe even by an axe. It carried this axe over into the other world, and it was immune to rock salt. That sound about right?"

"Yeah," Ellen said. "It seems good to me. And you know you have to burn its bones in a fire made from sticks, right? No gasoline."

Dean sighed. "No, Sammy left out the part about the sticks. Thanks, Ellen."

"No problem. You boys take care of yourselves, you hear? And be good to Jo, too," Ellen said, tossing the rag into a bucket full of water. Ash ran past, stark naked, covering himself with his the deer head from the wall. Ellen shook her head.

"Sure, Ellen. Will do. You want to talk to Jo?" Dean replied. He shifted his weight so he could hand the phone to the blonde girl in the center of the room, grunting as he did so.

"OK," Ellen said. Dean handed the phone to her daughter, and the two said goodbye to each other before Jo hung up the phone.

"So," Sam said to Dean. "What did she say?"

"Well, Sammy, we can't burn this thing with gas. We need to make a fire from sticks. Good thing we've got Ellen to watch out for us, no?" Dean replied. He stood up and stumbled over to the table, taking another cold piece of pizza from the box. "You want a piece?" he asked, offering the one in his hand to Jo. She shook her head, looing slightly repulsed by the thought. Dean shrugged and bit into his slice.

"I'm going to go rent a room," Jo said. She turned and almost made it to the door before Dean spoke up.

"Don't do that," he said.

"I will not share a bed with you," Jo said immediately.

"That's not what I meant," Dean replied. "I'm sure Sammy would be glad to give up his bed for you."

"You're kidding, right?" Sam said. Dean just smiled at him. Sam groaned and picked up Dean's keys from next to the pizza box. "I'll be in the Impala."

The clock on the endtable read 12:37 when Dean awoke with a start. There was something in the room with him and Jo, something inhuman. He could hear a snuffling sort of breath from the other side of the room, but he couldn't see anything in the darkness.

He felt under his pillow for the gun, this time loaded with the silver bullets that were supposed to repel a kilajh. Trying to be quiet, he leaned over and felt for the lamp. His hand connected rather loudly, and he saw something glint red in the darkness. "Son of a bitch," he whispered and groped frantically for the switch. Finally he found it, and the room flooded with light.

In the far corner of the room sat a young girl with white-blonde hair, dressed in a white nightgown. She was looking down at her feet, but when Dean drew in a gasp she lifted her head up to look at him.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled at the top of his lungs. Instead of eyes the girl had two gaping holes. The girl scrambled to her feet and began to step toward Dean.

Jo awoke in the other bed, saw what was happening, and shouted for Dean to shoot the girl. He pulled the trigger and the silver bullet exploded from the end of the gun. The dead girl's wispy form blew apart when the bullet hit her.

"What the hell!" Dean shouted. "I thought we were dealing with a fifty-year-old murder victim, not frigging Shirley Temple."

The door to the room flew open, startling both of the room's inhabitats. Sam stood in the doorway, hair disheveled. "What's going on?" he shouted. "I heard a gunshot." He took in the scene before him; Dean in bed, shirtless as he always was at night, with a gun, Jo staring at him in shock, and the clothes strewn around the room. Normally he would have thought Dean and Jo had hooked up, but Dean was injured.

"There was another frigging spirit in here, Sammy," Dean said. "A girl. She had no eyes."

Sam closed his eyes. "Oh my god," he said, slumping against the doorframe. "There's more than one?"

Dean nodded. "I'd say we got ourselves a bit of a problem."

"Listen, I'm going to go get my own room," Jo said after a moment. "I feel bad for making Sam sleep in the car."

"It's OK, really," Sam said. "I had the heat cranked up and I was listening to the radio. Some dude who called himself Jackles was pretending he could sing... he sucked big time."

"No. I'll go wake up the fat slob in the office and make him rent me a room. Maybe I'll ask him a few questions while I'm there. See you boys in the morning," Jo said, looking one last time at the shirtless Dean in bed.

Sam moved out of the way to let Jo pass and closed the door behind her. He turned to Dean, who still looked shaken from his encounter with the ghost girl.

"What do you think's going on?" he asked his older brother. Dean looked pained for a moment, and he clutched his chest.

"I don't know, but I want these bitches gone so I can work on fixing myself."

"Maybe we need to find you another faith healer," Sam smiled. "We could go back to Roy LaGrange... see how he's doing."

Dean threw a pillow at his brother, who caught it, laughing. "I'm just joking," he said. "If killing the kilajh doesn't fix you, we'll start exploring some other options."

"For now I need to catch some Z's," Dean said. "You can watch some TV if you want. Keep it clean, please."

Sam scowled at his older brother and lay down on the bed that Jo had slept in. Dean turned off the lamp with the ripped shade and was soon fast asleep, breathing irregularly.

Sam lay there for a while, listening to Dean's breath. He thought about how close the two of them were, about how much closer they'd become since their father had died. At first they'd fought a lot, each trying to help the other come to terms with the death, but now they had accepted the fact that their father was no longer able to help them hunt the demon and had moved on.

Sam picked up the remote from the bedtable and turned on the TV. He heard loud thumping and a moan before the picture came into focus. "Sammy," Dean growled in his sleep. Face reddening, Sam changed the channel. He found a cartoon involving fairy godparents and an evil teacher and lay there watching it until long after the clock read 3:00.

Sunlight streamed through the window of Room 7 and fell upon the faces of the two sleeping brothers. The television played softly, and it didn't bother either of them. They kept sleeping, Dean facing the wall nearest him and Sam looking toward the ceiling with both arms behind his head, Dean shirtless and Sam wearing a solid grey T-shirt.

Outside, a light snow had fallen, covering the beer bottles and McDonald's cups in a thin layer of white. A white car pulled into the parking lot and Jason got out, wearing a heavy winter coat and work boots. He walked over to the office, intending to find out which room the brothers were staying in.

He pulled open the door, breath rising in a thin column from his lips. Stepping inside the office, he wondered where the man who ran the place was. Why wasn't he behind the counter?

Jason walked up to the front desk and said, "Hello? Is anyone here?" When there was no answer, he walked around the counter to look for the man with the trucker's cap.

Behind the counter was a small kitchen and a room with a couch in front of a TV. Jason could see the legs of the man who had rented a room to him and his girlfriend just last night, lying up on the couch. He walked over to the couch, saying, "Hello? Hello? Sir, wake up." The man didn't move.

Jason moved around the side of the couch so he could see the man's face, and to his horror saw it was covered in the same deep, long lacerations that had marred the face of the being that had attacked him the night before. The motel owner was dead.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean, wearing nothing but a pair of flannel pants and an undershirt, laid a hand on Jason's shoulder as they watched the police car drive out of the motel parking lot. "Don't worry about it, kid," he said. "That cop was an ass."

"He sounded like he suspected me of something," Jason said. "I'm not worried, though... I'm still in shock. I've never seen a dead body, except for like at funerals and stuff."

"Well," said Jo from over by the Impala. "If you want to be a Hunter, you're going to have to get used to death and blood. We deal with that kind of stuff almost every day."

"I know," Jason said. He looked back at Jo evenly. It was cold outside, and he shivered. "Who are you again?" he asked, shrugging out from under Dean's hand.

"My name's Jo. I was probably the last person to see that guy alive. He gave me the key to Room 3 at 1:00 last night... well, I guess it was this morning. He wasn't too happy about it, but he did it. And now he's dead."

"Dean, do you think the axeman did it? Do you think its axe killed the motel owner?" asked Jason. Sam, who stood next to Jo, looked at the kid in surprise. Why did people always seem to want to talk to Dean? Especially this kid. He obviously had a lot more in common with Sam, but he chose to ask Dean questions, when Sam was obviously the smarter of the two.

"I don't know, Jason," Dean said truthfully. "I don't think so... If this thing wanted to kill me last night, it would have. Instead, it... I don't even know what it did. I don't think its axe was capable of killing someone."

"How are you feeling, Dean?" asked Jo, looking concerned.

"Better, I guess, but I still feel empty," Dean answered, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"It's too bad they're closing the motel," Sam said. "Now we're going to have a hard time getting rid of this spirit."

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," Dean said. "You know there are always ways around the caution tape."

"What do you mean?" Jason asked. Sam and Dean shared a look of mild annoyance; the kid was a novice, and answering questions constantly was getting to be difficult.

"You could say Sammy and I like to play dress-up," said Dean.

"OK then," said Jo, averting her eyes. She ran a hand over the Impala's roof. "Nice car you boys have."

"You mean nice car, Dean. Ain't she a beauty?" Dean said, looking at his car with an expression of misty-eyed adoration..

"Yeah," Jason said, walking over to the car. He shivered as he touched the Impala's black finish, for the evening snow had left the surface of the car extremely cold. "What year is she?"

"A '67," Dean said, grinning.

"Nice," Jason said. He looked at the car for a moment longer and then turned to Sam. "So what's the next step?"

"Dean and I pack up our things and find another place to stay for the next few days. We don't have to be back here tonight, because there have only been sightings every other day, so we can chill for a while. Jason, do you know any place where we can crash?" Sam responded.

"Well, I'd let you stay at my place, but I don't know how my folks would take that. There's a Holiday Inn down the street that probably has vacancies for tonight. No one ever visits Arkansas in the winter, especially not our town."

"Thanks, man," Dean said. "Sammy get your number?"

"Yeah," Sam said, patting the cell phone in his pocket.

"Good. Then we'll call you when we need your help. For now, go home and do whatever it is you kids do at home alone," Dean said. Jason nodded, shook the hands of the two brothers, got in his car, and drove away.

"Let's blow this popsicle joint," Dean said. The brothers walked into Room 7. Jo followed uncertainly, having already packed her bags earlier that morning. Sam picked up the can of Febreze from the counter and gave the room a good long spray, because the scent of cigarette smoke and sex had come back. "Thanks," Jo said. "This place reeked."

"I know," Dean said.

He felt a pain in his chest and sat down on the bed to rest. Sam took their clothes out of the drawer-less dresser and stuffed them back into the suitcase.

He said, "Jo, would you mind bringing this suitcase out to the Impala? I'll carry these other two bags."

"What's in them?" Jo asked without thinking. Dean stood up and shuffled over to one. He unzipped it partway and showed her the glint of metal inside. Her eyes opened wide and she uttered a small "Oh."

Dean nodded. "Just a little extra protection. Never know when a creepy little girl with no eyes is going to show up."

Jo smiled and left the room, suitcase in tow. When the door closed behind her, Dean stopped standing up so tight. The smile fell off his face. "Dude..." he sighed.

Sam just shook his head and picked up the two bags full of guns, crossbows, and knives. He grunted under their weight but managed to make it out the door to the Impala. He took the keys out of his jacket pocket and opened the trunk for Jo, who put the suitcase in first and then hoisted one of the other bags onto her shoulder. "I'll keep this in my car," she said.

"I don't know," Sam said. "It's fine here."

"You're going to deny a girl a gun?" Jo said with a smile.

"You can have a gun, just don't take the whole damn bag," Sam said, getting annoyed.

"Never mind then," Jo said with a frown. She stowed the bags in the trunk and closed it. "Meet you boys in town later for a drink?"

"Sure," Sam said, hands in the pocket of his jacket. He looked at her for a minute, waiting for her to say something.

For a minute there was nothing but silence, and then Jo added, "I'll call you and we can set something up."

"Um, yeah," Sam said. "I'll talk to you then."

Jo got into her rundown car and pulled out of the parking spot, leaving a trail of exhaust behind her.

Sam walked back into Room 7 and heard the shower running. He powered up the laptop and logged on to the Internet while Dean sang in the shower, searching for axe murders in the area. By the time Dean had finished washing himself and came out of the bathroom with a towel slung low on his hips, Sam had found something.

"Read this," he said. Dean leaned over him, clutching the towel together.

"Local resident hacked to death by axe murderer," he read from the screen. "A dismembered foot believed to belong to Stark County farmer Carl Biggs was found on the site of his farm last Thursday. The coroner's report showed the wound was inflicted by a sharp object such as an axe or a hatchet. The rest of Biggs' body has not been found." He paused and looked at Sam, who was trying not to look at his almost- naked brother. "You think this is our guy?"

"It's dated exactly thirteen months ago," Sam said, swallowing hard. "One year before the first sighting of the axe-weilding kilajh."

The Impala slowed to a stop outside the Holiday Inn's office door. Dean and Sam sat in the car for a while, for it had begun to snow and neither wanted to get out of the car.

"Well, Sammy?" Dean said after a minute or two had passed. "What are you waiting for?"

Sam looked surprised. "What do you mean, what am I waiting for?"

"Go get us a room!" Dean said. "I'll wait with the car."

Sam sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt. He opened the door and got out, calling over his shoulder, "You're waiting IN the car. Not WITH the car."

He shut the door, and Dean scowled. "Don't worry, baby, he didn't mean it."

When Sam opened the door, a bell hung from the doorframe jingled. Sam walked up to the counter and smiled to himself; the girl behind the counter was hot, and Dean would have enjoyed trying to get her number. "Hey," he said.

She looked up from the gossip magazine she was reading and for one horrible moment Sam was sure she was Meg. Then the girl smiled and Sam saw she was just a normal, pretty girl with short blonde hair. "You here to rent a room?" she asked. Sam nodded, and she said, "You all alone?"

"Um, no, I'm not," Sam said. "My brother's with me."

"Is he as good looking as you are?" the girl, whose name was Jenna according to nametag, asked. Sam smiled uncomfortably.

"Not at all," he replied what he hoped was smoothly. "Everyone says I got the looks in the family." It was odd; Sam was normally uncomfortable flirting with girls. But with this particular girl, it came easy.

"Ok," the girl said. "How long do you need your room?"

"Better make it for a week," Sam said. "We're in town on business."

"Oh, you work together?" Jenna asked.

Sam nodded. "You could say that."

The girl typed something into the computer and waited, and Sam heard an electronic ping.

"Ok, you're all set!" the girl said. She took a Post-It note off a pad by the keyboard and scribbled something on it.

There was a jingling sound behind Sam, and he half turned. To his chagrin, he saw Dean coming towards him. He tried to motion to his older brother to back away, to not let the girl see him, but it was no use.

"Hey there... Jenna," Dean said when he reached the counter, reading the girl's name tag so quickly it seemed almost suave. She looked up from the Post-It and grinned.

"Hello. I'll be with you in just a minute," she said.

"Dean," Sam hissed under his breath, looking down at the counter so as not to meet Jenna's eyes.

Dean either didn't hear or didn't care. "Oh, no, we're together. This here's my brother Sammy. My name is Dean, by the way." He held out a hand, which Jenna took. Dean pulled it to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand gently. Jenna giggled.

"So, Sammy," Jenna said, handing him his room key. "I thought you said you were better looking than your brother?"

Dean looked at Sam in surprise. "Yeah, OK," Dean said. Sam rolled his eyes and turned around, leaving the office in a huff.

"Well," Jenna said, smiling at the man in front of her. "Since he's not here, I guess I'll give this to you." She handed Dean the Post-It and their room key.

"Thank you!" Dean said, walking back to where he'd left the Impala. On the way, he read what the girl had written on the Post-It. With a grin he realized it was her number.

Five minutes later Dean was stumbling around the parking lot, looking for his beloved Impala. It was still snowing, and he was really cold. His lips had a slight blue tint to them. When he had come out of the hotel office, his car was nowhere to be seen. "Sammy!" he shouted, clutching his chest. "This isn't funny." There was no answer. "Sammy!"

Dean sighed, coming around the corner of the hotel back to the front. He'd now walked around the entire building. The Impala was gone, and the pain in his chest was starting to worsen.

It was only when it started to ring that Dean remembered he owned a cell phone. He pulled it out of his jacket pocket and looked at the Caller ID. It was Sam.

"Dude, where the hell are you?" Dean said into the phone.

"I'm at the bar across the street. You have to get over here... some drunk just started ranting and raving... he confessed to the murder of Carl Briggs."


End file.
